


Winter Nights

by StrawberryLane



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone Lives, Credence Barebone-centric, Good Original Percival Graves, Guilt, Homeless Credence, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Protective Original Percival Graves, Sex Worker Credence, kept boy Credence, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryLane/pseuds/StrawberryLane
Summary: "Well, kid?" the man asked and Credence, after swallowing down the nausea that was trying to make its way into his mouth, got down on his knees in front of the man. Ignoring the gravel that was digging into his knees uncomfortably, he reached for the man's belt and got to work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=1908384#cmt1908384) prompt from the kinkmeme.
> 
> I chose teen and up as a rating because I don't think of this as mature, more like tamely mature maybe, and that doesn't exist as a rating. Tell me if you think I should change it.
> 
> I chose this prompt because I figured, hey, I can work on my smut writing skills, but then I ended up writing this instead.

The first time he got approached with a request, he'd been standing on a corner of an unlit, mostly empty street, trying to keep from shivering from the cold seeping into his bones. It had been December, close to Christmas, a couple of weeks after Ma’s and Chastity's deaths.

The man who came to a stop in front off him had smelt strongly of alcohol and sweat, so drunk he'd been swaying back and forth.

"You free, boy? I'll swear I'll pay you good if you blow me."

Credence had stammered some excuse, thinking the man had confused him with someone else, Credence would never do what the man implied. Doing those things were sinful, ensuring you'd burn in hell.

"Pretty boy like you? Of course you are," the stranger had crooned, in a voice that sounded oily. Then he had produced a wad of cash, promising Credence that he would give him money, if only Credence got down on his knees and did his job.

After a couple of very slow minutes of staring at the cash, money Credence desperately needed because he had literally none and hadn't eaten properly for days, Credence grabbed them from the man's hands.

"Wonderful," the man sighed. He then took Credence by the arm, leading him down the street until they reached an even darker alley. It was empty, save for some trashcans in a corner.

"Well, kid?" the man asked and Credence, after swallowing down the nausea that was trying to make its way into his mouth, got down on his knees in front of the man. Ignoring the gravel that was digging into his knees uncomfortably, he reached for the man's belt and got to work.

He wasn't any good, not the first couple of times. Gagging and spluttering and generally not having a technique. But that didn't mean he didn't get customers. Especially not after he'd used the money he got to eat a full meal, to get some color back on his cheeks. His clothes still looked worse than they ever had, but that didn't seem to deter the people who approached him.

Soon, he moved from quick blow jobs to quick shags. Getting fucked for money was demeaning, but Credence knew he didn't have a choice. If he wanted to survive, this was something he needed to put up with. This was the only thing he knew how to do. No business in town would take him on without the proper education, not even the food shops.

It was too much work, they said, to set aside time to show him the ropes.

After a while, Credence learned how to simply ignore what was happening around him, to just hold on and moan at the right instances. Most of his customers wanted to believe he was feeling something too, that he was enjoying it. It brought more money to pretend he enjoyed it, to participate to a degree, instead of just being there, like he'd been the first couple of times.

He has a couple of people who kept coming back, who keep giving him money in exchange for his services. People who recommend him to their friends, even. One of those people are Langdon Shaw, the brother of Senator Shaw, who Credence thinks he may have killed back in December 1926. He doesn't actually remember, it's more of a bunch of fuzzy pictures.

Langdon Shaw does not remember Credence, or at least he doesn't give any indication that he does. The man likes to bring Credence home with him, to pay him for a couple of days at a time, all of it to be spent in the man's luxurious bed.

Credence does his best to please the man, who, he realizes, is very deeply repressed in his urges. The man likes to say dirty, shameful things while fucking Credence, to call him a useless whore. He seems to believe it turns Credence on too, so Credence does his best to block the man's words from his ears and focuses on bringing him to an orgasm as quickly as he can, all while ignoring the new, gleaming wedding band on the man's finger.

Mr Abernathy, a slimy man who Credence would rather not be approached by on most days, even if the pay is good, likes to slap Credence around. The hours Credence spends with Mr Abernathy aren't arousing in the least, but the man himself hardly seems to notice that Credence is severely uncomfortable. Instead, he seems to get off on the sound of his own voice as he orders Credence to do this and that and no, not that, you need to be punished for this, you little slut.

It's almost frightening how much Mr Abernathy reminds Credence of Ma sometimes.

Whenever he's had a customer, but especially if that customer had been Mr Shaw or Mr Abernathy, Credence makes sure to find a cheap hostel of some kind, to use his hard earned money to have a cleansing bath and a good nights sleep in an actual bed, by himself. He scrubs his whole body until he's red all over, to get rid of the ghosts of the hands he can still feel touching him all over.

Mr Graves comes back into his life, six months after everything went down, in perhaps the strangest way possible.

Credence is being cornered outside of the Woolworth Building, by Mr Abernathy, who keeps arguing about the price Credence has given him. As a seasoned customer, a return customer even, Mr Abernathy thinks he should get a discount.

Credence quietly disagrees and stands there, back against the wall, as the official looking man continues to argue, in an increasingly loud volume, about his right to chose his own price. Credence is just a dumb whore and does he realize that he will lose Abernathy all together if he doesn't comply with the man's wishes?

Credence, does, in fact realize this, but he can't find it within himself to care. "Fine," Mr Abernathy sighs, finally, "I'll pay full price. But then I'll expect you to-"

Credence's so busy trying to avoid getting the man's spit in his face that he hasn't noticed another person joining them until he hears a familiar voice growl sharply next to him.

"He is not for sale, Abernathy. I already purchased his time."

Both Credence and Mr Abernathy turn to stare at the new arrival. Credence, staring straight at the face of Percival Graves, doesn't utter a sound, speechless. Mr Abernathy on the other hand, lets out an indignant squeak. He opens his mouth to say something, perhaps to argue some more, but Mr Graves cuts in before he can get another sound out.

"Get back to work, Abernathy," Mr Graves sounds tired and there's an impatient tone in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Mr Abernathy grits out from between clenched teeth, turning away to walk back towards the Woolworth Building. Credence can't help but think of him as a dog, walking with its tail between its legs.

Credence turns to do the same, only to be stopped by Graves' hand on his upper arm. "I'm thinking I should buy any available time you've got left today," Credence hears the older man murmur, almost as if to himself.

"Excuse me?" Credence says, because he's sure he must have heard wrong.

"I'd like to buy you for the whole day, if that's possible," Graves says, louder this time.

*

Percival Graves takes him to small diner, making sure they get a booth in the back. Credence can't help but glance around at the other patrons. Surely Mr Graves doesn't expect him to do anything here?

For all that Credence knows he's grown into himself over the past couple of months, has gained new confidence the more he realized Ma isn't around to hurt him anymore, Mr Graves makes the ground beneath his feet feel slippery and wet. This is, after all, the man who strung him along for months, who told him he had magical powers, only to let him down and then tried to get him back the minute he'd realized it was Credence who was the monster, not Modesty.

"I think we need to talk, Credence," Mr Graves says once they've placed their orders to the bored looking waitress.

"About what?" Credence knows he sounds bitter, sounds standoffish, but he can't help it.

"About what's happened in this last year. I think it might come as no surprise to you to learn that magic is real?"

"No? You told me months ago."

"That's the thing, Credence. The me you got to know wasn't me at all, but an imposter."

"What?"  
"You don't have to believe me, but it's the truth. Eight months ago, I was attacked in my own home and held prisoner for just over two months. A man known as Gellert Grindelwald used magic to take over my appearance and found you, used you. If I'd been able, I never would have let this happen. I'm so sorry."

Mr Graves does look genuinely sad, Credence muses. He finds he doesn't want to talk about it.

"Is this why you bought my time today?" He asks instead. "To explain yourself?"

The man shrugs, an uncomfortable look on his face. He clearly doesn't like the fact that he's been called out for exchanging money for time with a prostitute.

"Yes," he says, "and no. I wanted to save you from Abernathy, and explain myself, yes, but also because I can't stand the thought of someone else touching you. I don't want anyone else to touch you, ever."

"That's not your call to make, Mr Graves. It's how I earn a living."

"I know."

*

Nothing happens immediately. They spend the day together, first at the diner and then walking around in the park. Credence, finding himself falling back into his past behavior, carefully inquires of Mr Graves' schedule, because he doesn't want to be a bother.

"Officially, I'm still on paid leave," Mr Graves explains, "but I go into work anyway, because just sitting around at home brings out bad memories."

They say goodbye outside of the Woolworth Building, Mr Graves asking for permission to contact Credence again.

Not even eight hours later, when Credence's standing around at his usual corner, waiting for someone to approach him, Mr Graves shows up again.

"I kind of lied earlier today, about why I bought your time. Is it horrible of me to offer to pay you to spend the night in my bed?"

Credence opens his mouth to tell the other man he needs some time to think about it.

"And I mean to sleep. Just actual sleeping," the older man says, holding out the largest wad of cash Credence's ever seen. "This should cover it, shouldn't it? I'm unfamiliar with no-maj money."

That night and the rest of the nights of the month, all they do is sleep. Credence curls up next to Mr Graves in the bed, and doesn't dream a thing. Sleeping next to someone else is reassuring, he finds.

One day Mr Graves asks him to move in permanently, to give his services to Mr Graves and Mr Graves only. "I'll pay you whatever you want, if that makes you feel better about it," he says and Credence thinks about it, carefully.

He terminates his contracts with Mr Shaw and Mr Abernathy and the rest of his customers later that week. He gives no reason, because he doesn't owe these people anything.

Later in the evening, when they're laying in bed, him and Mr Graves, naked and sated, it occurs to Credence that this time it might be different. He feels wanted, even after the act itself is done. With the others, he usually leaves as quickly as is possible, but Mr Graves has actually offered up his home for Credence. He can come and go as he wants, but the door will always stay open to him, and Mr Graves has assured him again and again that he will never expect Credence to be up for sex whenever Mr Graves' wants it. "This should be about your pleasure and preferences too, not just mine," the older man tells Credence as he slowly makes his way down the younger man's body, clearly intent on returning the favor Credence bestowed upon him earlier during the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it!


End file.
